The Dallas daily herald. [volume] (Dallas, Tex.) 1873-1887, 1887-05-14
Casting a New Roller.

the interior, OF n neighbor who hat
been to town with load of wood. 20
l didn't hear much of anything" sai'
the other. "only they are casting new
Z roller in the Gazette office. Thos'
who have lived in little country
village, twenty years or more ago, will
remember with what awe they looked
upon everything connected with the
local printing office. The type-sctting
was marvellous, the distributing of the
type was wonderful, and the printing
of the paper on the old hand press was
q mechanical affair that drew crowds
to witness. But the great wonder was
the casting of a new roller. The editor
would apologize for the looks of the
paper, both in its editorial columns,
and in the stores and groceries where
he ioafed, and say he had got to cast a
new roller, and when anybody would
ask how it was done he would look
mysterious, and tell them to come in
some day next week, after the paper
was out Hundreds would ask what
the roller was made of. and he would
tell them lot of lies, but when the
eventful day would come to cast the
roller, it would be discovered that the
roller was made of molasses and glue.
The hottest day in the summer would
be selected to cast the roller, and early
on that day fire would be built in the
old rusty Office stove, which would be
filed with oily paper, and would burn
out the chimney the first thing, and call
out the bucket brigade. After the CHM
ney was burned out everybody would
ask about the fire, and the information
that the boys at the printing office were
casting new roller would 60 abroad,
and the whole town would be q talking
about it. The editor would 60 down to
the drug store in his shirt sleeves and
buy quantity of glue, and show it TO
everybody on the streets, and tell them
he was going to cast a new roller.
Then he would take tin pail and go
down and buy some molasses, and stop
on the street to tell everybody it was
to be used in casting new roller.
Then the molasses and glue would be-
gin to cook, and a peculiar smell would
pervade the business part of the town,
and when anybody asked what the
smell was he would be told that they
were casting a new roller at the print
ing office. The editor and printers
would leave the Office on account of the
heat, and stand on the street corners
and talk about casting the roller, and
leave the devil to keep fire and stir
up the molasses and glue. Nothing
would be talked about during the sleepy
summer day, but the new roller. The
merchants who usually pitched quoits
in the shade back of the stores, would
leave the game to listen to the editor
talk about casting new roller. Finally
the devil would come down to where
the editor was leaning against railing,
with some of the cooked roller COM
position on paper, and the edit
tor would examine it critically,
and say it was about right,
and he would ask the crowd to go up in
to the Office TO see the roller cast, The
crowd would go up, and stand around
the hot stove for an hour and mop
Precipitation off their faces, while the
editor got the roller mold and CREASED
Il inside, and put the core into IL. To
watch the editor, one would think IT
was the momentous occasion of his life.
Finally, when the visitors were all
nearly melted, and were leaning out of
the windows for a breath OF air, the
editor would stir up the molasses and
glue for the last time, and take the
pail and get upon a chair, and pour the
composition into the cast-iron mold,
and the work be done, under the anx-
ious superintendent of the perspiring
leading citizens, and there would be
half holiday for the roller to cool and
to let the printers get out of the heat
of the Office. But the editor would 60
around town all the afternoon and tell
the meat-market man and the black
smith and the men sitting on the grind
stones in front of the hardware store
and every body he met, that he had
cast the roller and he wondered how it
would come out of the mold in the
morning. Casting a roller in country
printing-office twenty years ago, was an
.xant IN no talked abor.i for n month.